The Project
by L-Ae-D
Summary: October, 1974. A few weeks in the lives of Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. To be told in six parts.
1. Chapter 1

It was a rainy and unpleasant evening in mid-October that saw one Sirius Black and his usual associates gathered over a large stack of books in the Gryffindor common room. Well, Sirius and Peter were huddled over them. James was dripping on them, having just returned from a disastrous Quidditch practice.

"Would you go drip somewhere else? Pince'll have my head, you know they're out in my name."

"What do I care? The first match against Slytherin is next weekend, we're doomed."

Sirius looked up sharply and glared at his best friend. "You had better not be, I've a bet with Reg."

"How much?" James asked, flopping back in his armchair.

"More than I can afford to lose, that's how much."

Peter leaned back and put his feet up on the table, narrowly missing the books. "Dunno why you're so worked up, you know they won't – !" His last word was cut off as Sirius pushed his feet off the table and he lurched forward. "God, Sirius, what's got your wand in a knot?"

"Lorentz marked him down five points on the last Arithmancy assignment," Remus said, not even bothering to glance up from a moldy-looking tome he'd snagged from the Restricted Section. "Something about being all flash and no substance..."

"That's all _theory_ and no substance," Sirius ground out, as the others fell about laughing. "What does he know, anyway? The only reason he teaches here is 'cause the Arithmancer's Guild rejected him."

"How d'you know?" Peter said. "Maybe he didn't want to... arithmance for a living."

"And that's not what he does? That's what Father said when he got my marks for last term."

James sniggered. "What, is he from the Sirius Black School of How to Rationalize Low Marks?"

Sirius sent him a withering glare. "For your information, I did very well last term."

"You always do," Remus mumbled. "Although how you do it is beyond my comprehension, I don't think I've ever seen you study for more than an hour at a stretch."

"Why should I study? I know the material, why waste time that might be better spent in more pleasurable pursuits?"

"Does Molly Ainsworth qualify as a more pleasurable pursuit?" James grinned. "Saw you making eyes at her in Transfiguration yesterday."

"No, she doesn't. 'S not my fault she kept turning around like that."

"They don't know what to make of you, you know," Peter said conversationally. Upon being presented with three confused faces, he rushed on. "The professors. Half the time they're convinced you'll never make anything of yourself, the other half they're all dead sure you'll go on to become a household name. Famous throughout the world, and all that."

"Who told you that? Have you been pleasuring Slughorn during lunch or something?" Sirius snorted.

Peter looked stricken. "I- I- I had an appointment to discuss my mark with Professor Gilmour – too bad we won't have him again next year, he's been pretty good – and he said to meet him in the staffroom, and I guess they were having a meeting – "

"With Sirius as the main topic of discussion?" Remus quirked a brow questioningly. He had a point, Sirius thought. Peter had been known to tell stories on occasion.

"I dunno. I'm just telling you what I heard."

"Hm. D'you think I could make a name for myself doing nothing? I'm quite good at it... and I'm sure everyone at Hogwarts knows my name already..."

"Oh please..."

They broke off their discussion abruptly as a third year came through the portrait hole and started toward them. There were several mysterious glances, all communicating the need to impress upon this rogue upstart that they were _fourth years_, and not to be tangled with. But then the boy walked straight up to Sirius.

"Sirius Black?" Behind the kid, James's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly left his forehead. Sirius smirked. Obviously this proved his point. People _did_ know his name.

"Yeah?"

"Professor McGonagall said to give this to you," the boy said, holding out a roll of parchment, which Sirius took.

"Huh. Wonder what she wants? Says she wants to see me tomorrow after lunch."

"Dunno... do you think she figured out about the toilet seat we nicked from Moaning Myrtle?"

"Why would she just send for you?"

"Good point. Hey... where'd that kid go? Hey... hey, you! Yeah, you," Sirius yelled across the common room. "Come here a tick, I've a question for you."

"I don't know what she wants with you, she didn't tell me," the kid said, as he walked back toward them. What was his name? Edwin? Edward? On second thought, Sirius couldn't be bothered to remember.

"No, no, it's not about that. My mates here don't believe people around here actually know my name. But you did, eh?"

"In a way, I guess."

"In a way? What the deuce does that mean?" Sirius said, brow furrowed.

"Well, McGonagall told me to give this to you, and I told her I didn't know who you were, so she told me to just look for the moody one."

It was as though a Cackling Cracker had gone off in their corner. Remus could barely get out his next question for laughing. "And – and you were able to find him? Just like that?"

"It wasn't that hard..."

By this point, James was rolling about on the floor clutching at his stomach. Peter had fallen out of his chair, and simply lay on the carpet, gasping with hilarity. Sirius surveyed them haughtily from his seat.

"Well, it's nice to see you lot are so easily amused," he sniffed. Their laughter only redoubled. "Fine, that's it, I'm off to bed."

This announcement was met with a gasp of "_Moody!_" from Peter, which set the others off again. Sirius grabbed the top book, Animagi For Those With Animal Tendencies, turned on his heel, and went directly up the stairs to the dormitory. Those fools ought to watch who they called moody.

* * *

Directly after lunch the following day, Sirius left James and the others to walk to the greenhouses while he went up to see Professor McGonagall. Stopping in front of the ornately carved wooden door, he knocked three times.

"Come in!"

He pushed open the door and, shaking back his hair (its length was really getting ridiculous, even if it did look better that way), dropped into a tartan-upholstered chair.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Black."

"Good afternoon, Professor."

"Ginger newt?"

So this wasn't a disciplinary meeting after all.

"Thank you, Professor." If there was one thing Sirius had, it was manners. When he wanted to use them, that was.

He bit off the newt's right hind leg and chewed quietly, wondering how she would have responded if he'd ripped its head off.

"Mr. Black, have you heard anything from your cousin recently?"

Sirius choked on the newt's tail. Of all the things he was expecting to hear, it wasn't that.

"Erm... were you thinking of any cousin in particular? I've got a few, you know."

The professor chose to ignore his comment, and said, "Andromeda. Your father's... erm," she trailed off, seemingly unable to work out the genealogical web.

"Younger brother's second daughter. She's also my third cousin on my mother's side. No, I've not heard from her since last term, I don't think. Certainly didn't get any post from her over summer."

"Oh?"

"If there was anything from her, Mother would have incinerated it. Like the tapestry."

"The tapestry?" It wasn't often Sirius could talk about something McGonagall didn't know about; unfortunately, he had no desire to stay on this particular topic.

"It's a family tree, really. And if one is not on the tapestry, one is not in the family, so far as Mother is concerned. Andromeda is not on the tapestry. Or she isn't anymore."

"Ah."

Sirius nodded. "So what about her?"

"Well... of course you know she married a Muggleborn."

"Of course."

"The thing is, Mr. Black, you are going to have a new cousin. Rather soon, too."

His jaw dropped. Andy, a mother? At least it wasn't Bella. "I should offer my congratulations."

"Eventually, perhaps. But right now it is your other cousin, Bellatrix, who concerns us most."

Sirius sighed and picked at the fabric of his robes. "You think she'll go after Andy for having a child with a Muggleborn." It wasn't a question. "Frankly, I'm surprised she hasn't tried to do it before."

McGonagall removed her spectacles and set them on a stack of parchment. "Far be it from me to claim to understand Miss Black's thought processes, but apparently she thought there was a chance Andromeda might leave her husband. Now that there is the child..."

"Bella hasn't got any thought processes. She just... does."

"In any case, Andromeda and Ted thought it would be best to go under the Fidelius Charm. I don't know if she intends to tell you their location, but she did ask me to inform you of what was going on."

He slouched in his seat slightly, then said, "Thank you, Professor." He stood to leave, then realized this was an opportunity too good to be wasted. "Erm, I do have one other question, though."

She picked up her spectacles again and replaced them on her nose. "Indeed? And what is that, Mr. Black?"

"Well...," In for a knut, in for a galleon, "I had a few questions about the Animagus transformation."

He couldn't have surprised McGonagall more if he'd suddenly offered to be Snape's best friend.

"The Animagus transformation? You won't be studying any human transfiguration until your sixth year."

It was either tell the truth (which was absolutely, completely forbidden) or run the risk of offending her slightly. Sirius chose the latter.

"Well, Professor – please don't take this as an insult – I just thought I would do a bit of outside research. Not that I'm bored in your class or anything – "

"But you're just a genius in the subject, and needed more stimulation," McGonagall finished dryly. "Mr. Black, I have heard tell that the library in your family home is at least the size of the one here at Hogwarts, if not larger. Surely you can find something to tide you over."

It was astounding how easily she had diverted his question. "Professor, that library is all Dark Arts, and – "

"Go to class, Mr. Black. I think you've missed all of Herbology by now – I believe your next class is Potions? And don't let Mr. Potter forget his punishment."

"Ah, Professor, surely you can let it go?"

"I most certainly cannot, Mr. Black."

"It was just an earthworm into an earwig – "

"When the earwig is the size of an eagle that becomes a problem. Especially when it attempts to devour Miss Evans. Dismissed."

"Yes, Professor." Turning to leave, Sirius paused by the door jamb. "Thanks for telling me, though."

"Certainly, Mr. Black. Oh and by the way –," she paused, looking up from a sheaf of parchment, "your exam tomorrow is on cross-species switching. I don't expect you'll need to study."

Sirius grinned. "Of course not." He hesitated, looking at the tin of ginger newts as he opened the door. Then he shouted the incantation and dashed out into the corridor, leaving the professor to contend with an escaped rabble of ginger butterflies.


	2. Chapter 2

"The thing is," Sirius said, his voice echoing off the dungeon walls, "I've got no idea what half their terms mean. Obviously I could infiltrate the library at Grimmauld Place, but – James?"

There was a grunt from several metres behind him. He turned and walked back to where James was furiously rifling through his bag.

"Doesn't matter how fast you go, you'll never be able to fit yourself in there." He paused as James shoved his arm in nearly to the shoulder. "On the other hand, maybe so. Forgot you got the deluxe model. You couldn't fit _me_ in there, I've at least got muscles. But you're scrawny enough."

"Sirius, would you stop it a minute? I borrowed that book on Polyjuice from Slughorn, and now I can't find it." As he said this, James's head vanished into the depths of the bag.

"_Lumos_. Here, does that help?"

"Oh... yes. There it is," James said, withdrawing his head, left arm, and copy of Which Witch is Which? from the bag.

"Can we go now? I'm starving."

"Well, you're the one got us the detention. Not my fault we had to work through supper."

"But it was such a great opportunity! Snivellus mucked with my Shrinking Solution last week – dunno what he turned it into, but it sure as hell didn't shrink anything. Slughorn looked like I was asking him to eat dung when I turned it in."

"Eugh. Like your cousin, you mean?"

"What, Narcissa? That's exactly it."

James trailed his fingers along the stone wall of the stairwell and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Oh, Snivelly... when will you learn?" Returning his voice to its normal timbre (somewhere on the verge of cracking), he added, "The purple was a nice touch."

"Hm, I thought so."

"The tentacles might've been a bit longer though."

"You think? That's not too intense or anything?"

"Maybe if you add an extra few lacewing flies..."

Sirius kicked at a suit of armor as he passed it. "Well, yeah, but we're not working on this antidote again next week. It's a shame there's not one foolproof thing you can put in any potion to guarantee it'll go wrong." As James started to speak, Sirius said quickly, "And don't say fireworks."

"Fireworks. Ow! You didn't have to punch me!"

"I warned you – oh, shite."

"What? Oh, no."

A cat had materialized at the end of the passage; she stood still, her luminous eyes fixed on the two boys.

"Just what I needed to make my day even better."

"It's not past curfew, though, we should be all right..."

"When has that ever changed Filch's mind?"

"So, what, do we run?"

"Too late for that, boys... roaming the halls this late? I'll be sure to have you for this one."

They turned around. Sure enough, Filch was making his way toward them.

"We just got out of a detention, Slug – er, Professor Slughorn'll tell you."

"Maybe so, but when young Gryffindors are talking about fireworks in the halls there's sure to be something brewing..."

Sirius groaned. If Filch had heard them discussing their plans, they were really in for it.

* * *

Half an hour later, sweaty and exhausted after giving Filch the slip, James and Sirius stumbled to a halt in front of the Fat Lady.

"Cornish pixies! Oh, hurry up!"

The Fat Lady opened one painted eye, rolled it expertly, and swung forward.

"We really owe Peeves for this one."

James didn't answer. He didn't even mumble in reply. Sirius glanced over at his friend, and sighed. There ought to be a head of red hair somewhere around here... ah, yes. There, in front of the fire.

"See you later, James."

He stumbled up the dormitory stairs, bag dragging behind him. Finally he reached the door labeled, "Fourth Years".

The room was not empty, but it might well have been for all the noise the occupants were making. As Sirius stood in the doorway, Remus looked up from his book and said, "Did Slughorn make you run laps, or something equally... er... physical?"

Sirius's face must have reflected his horrified mental reaction, because Remus hurriedly said, "I didn't mean – oh, for Merlin's sake. Never mind. But really, what were you _doing_ down there?"

"And where's James?" Peter chimed in. He was sitting on his trunk directing a paper aeroplane with his wand; now that his attention was focused on Sirius, the plane was threatening the candles.

"_Aguamenti_!"

"Sirius! I spent ages trying to figure out that folding spell!"

"Well, then, what were you trying to set it on fire for?"

Peter retreated to his bed, looking sulky, and Remus said again, "I thought you just had a detention for giving Snape purple tentacles."

"Purple tentacles where a beard ought to be," Sirius corrected.

"Yes, that. So why do you look like you've run here from London?"

"We had a little run-in with dear Filch," said Sirius, shuffling over to his bed and collapsing there.

Peter groaned sympathetically. "What'd he give you?"

"And why? You can't have been out past curfew, it's only just eight now."

"He happened upon us discussing the merits of fireworks. Seriously. We need a map or something."

"It's a thought, anyway. So what did you do, leave James to his fate?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Peter twitch. "Peter, I hate to break it to you, but..."

"What? What?"

"Peeves likes us an awful lot these days. Do you think it was the animated suits of armor in the toilets or the torches that we got to follow Mrs. Norris?"

"What did he do?"

"Smashed something, by the sound of it. Filch left and we ran. And before you wet yourself, Peter, James survived, he's in the common room."

"He said something about modifying that spell so it'll divebomb the first years... what d'you think, Sirius?"

"I think you should study your Transfiguration. McGonagall's set her exam, it's cross-species switches."

"Theory?" Peter said hopefully.

"Nope. Practical."

"Damn. How do you know, anyway?"

"She told me."

"What do you mean, she told you?" Remus was back in the conversation. "You just went up to her and asked, and she just... told you?"

"We were having an intellectual discussion, Lupin, and it happened to come up."

"Hm."

"You don't sound convinced, somehow."

"I'm not. Where did you say James was?"

"Common room. I wouldn't go down there, though. He'll be here soon enough."

No sooner had he spoken than the door flew open, admitting James, whose hair was even more ruffled than usual. He stood there silently, smiling beatifically, until finally Remus spoke up.

"Er... James?"

There was no response.

"James?"

"She said yes."

There was a deafening silence in the room.

Sirius finally gathered his wits enough to say, "Who, Evans?"

James nodded. Sirius shared a look with Remus and Peter. It was an odd sensation, being one of the acknowledged "sane ones."

"Next Hogsmeade weekend – she said she'd go with me." James beamed at them, then drifted across the room and flopped down on his bed.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend – " Sirius nearly laughed with relief. "James, do you realize –?"

Clearly James didn't realize, because he was still grinning up at the bedposts. Remus, however, made a muffled sort of noise that might have been either a laugh or... no, it was definitely some sort of chuckle.

"James," Sirius started again. When there was no response from James, he yelled, "Potter!"

James sat up. "What?"

"She's outsmarted you, mate."

"What are you talking about? She agreed to go out with me!"

"Uh huh. Next _Hogsmeade weekend_."

James didn't respond at first, then his eyes went wide.

"Oh, no... no, you've got to be joking..."

"Sorry, Potter. McGonagall said it was either no Quidditch until fifth year or no Hogsmeade for the rest of the term, and you – "

"Chose Quidditch," James finished glumly.

"Actually, you said you couldn't care less about Hogsmeade, Gryffindor couldn't win the Cup without you."

"Which is true!"

"Doesn't change the facts. The whole class heard what McGonagall said, and clearly Evans knows what she's doing. I think I might even be slightly impressed."


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of the next Hogsmeade weekend saw James Potter slumped over in his seat at the Gryffindor table, disconsolately picking at a cold piece of toast.

"Didn't know you'd taken to eating parchment, James."

James didn't even look up. "Hmph."

Sirius shrugged and reached for the bacon. "It's not my fault you've got to stay here. Need anything from Zonko's?"

James brightened perceptibly at the question. "More dungbombs, I think... and Peter stepped on my last nose-biting teacup, so a few of those as well... and whatever we've decided on for the you-know-what in a week."

"What you-know-what in a week?" Sirius asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"What you-know-what in a week? Sirius, do you realize it's almost Halloween and we haven't pulled our annual trick together?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh, yeah? What d'you mean, oh yeah? Mandy was just telling me how much she's been looking forward to it!"

"What d'you care about Jones? Thought you were going after Evans."

James glared and changed the subject. "The fact remains that we haven't figured out what we're going to do."

"Sorry, I've been busy working on the other you-know-what," Sirius said, pouring himself some tea.

"That's very admirable of you, Sirius, but Halloween is _next week_!"

"Give it a rest, James. 'S not the end of the world."

James was rapidly turning an unbecoming shade of red, which Peter kindly pointed out to him as he joined them at the table.

"Are you all right, James? You look like you've a bad sunburn."

"You look like you've taken Pepper-Up Potion and forgotten to swallow, actually," Sirius chimed in.

Several deep breaths later, James's face was restored to its normal shade. "Sirius. McGonagall wouldn't give you any help with it, so it's not like you can do anything until the holidays anyway."

"But – "

"But nothing! You need some fun in your life!" James shouted. "And so do I," he added as an afterthought. "Bloody earwig."

"I'm not sure if you realize, James," Remus said, looking nearly dead on his feet now that the full moon was the next night, "but it wasn't actually the earwig's fault. Nor the earthworm's, for that matter."

"I was just... expressing my annoyance," James groused. "And anyway, that's off topic."

"I really think I'm making progress, though!" Sirius said excitedly. "It's just their discussion of thought that's confusing me."

"What do you mean?" James finally gave up the toast as a bad job and went for the eggs. "And where's the salt?"

"Well, obviously the thought processes of animals and humans are completely different. Humans think in terms of language, and we don't know how real animals think because we don't know if they have a spoken language."

"Sirius, please," groaned Peter, looking ill. "Not at breakfast."

Sirius ignored him. "Plus, animals can't really communicate between species and such. But since Animagi are really like... I don't know, animals with human thought processes... anyway, it's all very confusing."

"So how do they account for Animagi being accepted by non-magical animals? Is there a certain sort of consciousness that has to be present in the human as animal?"

"Interesting as this conversation is," Peter tried again, "we're supposed to be leaving now."

"Maybe that new bookshop will have something."

"No!" James had lost interest in the thought processes of Animagi, at least for the moment. "You're going to Zonko's, and we are going to plan this thing!"

"All right, James," Remus said. "See you later."

"Give our love to the dormitory."

"Get splinched, Sirius."

* * *

The shopkeepers at the various stores in Hogsmeade were well-used to the slight insanity that accompanied the students when they came down for the day, and took full advantage of it, selling more on single days than in an entire week. A year previous, however, this slight insanity had progressed to absolute lunacy. The reason came in the form of four boys, who were at the time third years on their first group outing to the village. In the course of one afternoon, they had caused an enormous spike in sales at Zonko's, were thrown out of Honeydukes after the owner found them in the cellar, smashed several galleons worth of inkpots in Scrivenshaft's, and, last but certainly not least, been drunk off many, many bottles of butterbeer. As butterbeer contains far more sugar than alcohol, this was accompanied by a sugar high of colossal proportions. By the end of the day, the only two Hogsmeade institutions upon which they had not wreaked utter havoc were the Hog's Head (though not for lack of trying) and the Shrieking Shack (in which they seemed to have no interest).

Since that eventful day, Sirius had managed to charm his way back into the good graces of Madam Rosmerta, who kept the Three Broomsticks. They were allowed into Honeydukes individually, and were always welcome at Zonko's (the proprietor knew a good thing when he saw one, and these boys were clearly good for business), although Scrivenshaft's remained off limits. The old Scottish lady who owned the place had once chased Peter off with a mop in one hand and a quickly Conjured frying pan in the other; although it was an inconvenience to ask other students to purchase parchment and quills for them, and quite expensive to bring in their supplies by owl order, it was well worth the effort. Miss MacGregor was, as Sirius liked to say, "a holy terror." It was a term he'd often heard applied to himself, and his tone veered between gleeful and fearful depending on how close he was to her front door.

Today, though one of their number was absent, they were having as much fun as ever. After nearly wandering into the Forbidden Forest as they jumped into knee-high heaps of dead leaves, they finally made their way into the village and headed straight for Zonko's.

"Well, what do you think? Some of everything?"

Remus looked doubtful. "That'll get awfully expensive, Sirius."

"We're his best customers, he could at least give us a discount rate," Sirius huffed. "Erm... we've at least got to have some of that dye that doesn't wash out... and James wanted me to get him some things as well... You're right, though. It's more galleons than I've got, and I'm not about to owl Mother to ask for more."

"D'you think maybe we could just do it with Charms or something instead?" Remus said, gazing hopefully at Scrivenshaft's. "I was hoping to buy some new quills."

"You're going to go _in_ there?" Peter squealed. "Are you loony?"

"Not until tomorrow, Peter," Remus said wryly. "I thought if I could leave you two somewhere else I might be able to convince Miss MacGregor to let me in. And where's that bookstore you were talking about, Sirius?"

"There isn't one," Sirius said distractedly. He was deep in thought; there was an inkling of an idea chasing itself around his brain, and damned if he couldn't actually catch it.

"What? Why'd you tell James there was?"

"Just yanking his chain a bit. He's completely off his nut with this prank business. We've never really made it that big of a deal, and anyway I'm not all that interested in juvenile tricks. This...," he flung a glance over both shoulders to ensure no one was listening, "Animagi thing is so much more interesting."

"He's right, though," Peter said. "James is right. You're getting too wrapped up in this thing. Just work on this with us," he wheedled, "it'll help you let off some steam."

Sirius sighed, supposing he could put away his pet (no pun intended) project for the next week.

"All right then. What'd you blokes have in mind?"

"I was thinking something along the lines of switching the salt and the sugar at the feast."

"Monkeying with the silverware might mess up some of those upper class twits who actually know which fork to use," Sirius mused.

"That might actually include you, Sirius."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Can't we do something more exciting than that?"

"Well, what's your great idea, Pettigrew?"

"Erm... we could go in with Peeves on something, get him to throw balloons full of Swelling Solution or something."

"The only problem with that is that we can't really avoid getting hit ourselves, and I for one don't much fancy an extra trip to the infirmary."

"What if we Transfigured the rolls to stones?"

"It would be a little obvious, Peter. The color, for one thing. And the weight, for another."

"So you come up with something, then."

They continued on, Remus and Peter debating the prank with Sirius walking slightly behind them, unusually quiet.

"Isn't there some sort of charm that turns liquids to alcohol?"

"Unfortunately, there isn't. And if there was, the professors wouldn't teach it to us."

"Sirius, do you think maybe we can bring in the house elves?"

Sirius started. His mind had been somewhere else entirely – back in his book When One Has Fur: A Beginner's Guide to the Animal Mind.

"What?"

Peter started to repeat his question.

"Hang on. Remus... what would you say your mind's like when... you know?"

Remus's face went stony. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

"But – " Sirius would have argued the point, but Remus's expression convinced him otherwise. "Erm... sorry. What were you saying, Peter?"


	4. Chapter 4

James Potter was moping about Gryffindor Tower later that afternoon when the portrait hole finally opened and his friends came through. He let out a loud whoop and was halfway across the common room before he realized that there was a distinct absence of Zonko's bags about their persons.

"What – where – " he sputtered.

"We thought we'd best save our galleons," Sirius said.

"But – "

"It can't be that hard to come up with an idea if we've managed to do it three years running."

But as it turned out, it was rather difficult, and it was nearing ten before James slid off his armchair onto the floor, eyes unfocused and glassy.

"We're done for."

"What was that?" Sirius said, rather indistinctly, as his face was buried in a pillow.

"We're done for. Our reputation – everything we've worked for – "

"We can still get Snivellus, though."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Thank Merlin for small favors."

"I don't see why we can't just put on a display or something."

"What's the fun in that?"

"Well, we don't get detention, for one thing. I would really appreciate a night that doesn't involve disemboweling toads."

"You're telling me," James muttered.

"Plus, if we're not harming anyone, we don't have to be concerned about getting in the way or anything."

"I'm listening," James said, sitting up at last.

"And if nothing else, we can show Trewell and Perkins that we're a force to be reckoned with," Sirius finished triumphantly.

"So what was your idea?"

Sirius was silent for a moment as he thought everything through again. "I'm not sure, really... but it would be pretty good if pumpkins had legs."

The other three looked askance at him. "Except for how they don't..." James said, eyebrows raised.

"I just thought it might be amusing to see pumpkins dancing a reel in the Great Hall or something," Sirius elaborated.

"But they don't have legs," Remus started.

"Yes, I know that, Lupin," Sirius said testily.

James sighed. "So much for that, then."

"Maybe if we got the ghosts involved..."

"The ghosts? They'd never!"

"Oh, come off it!" Sirius said loudly. "You know Sir Nick is always trying to get into the Headless Hunt – they love Halloween! And besides – "

"Never underestimate the persuasive powers of Sirius Black," James finished.

"Exactly."

* * *

"Nick! Hey, Nick!"

Sirius's shouts were loud, but they were quickly lost in the commotion of the third floor corridor. Frustrated, he turned back to James, who was lounging against the wall watching Peter being buffeted halfway down the hall on the wave of fourth years who had just left the Charms classroom.

"Where's Lupin?"

"Talking to Flitwick. Wanted to see if he could get a more advanced version of that charm he set us first year."

Sirius grinned fondly, recalling how his pineapple had jittered across the professor's desk, tapping noisily all the way. Flitwick had praised him highly for the flap ball change, although he hadn't a clue what this meant, and made some obscure reference to the rain. But since then, he'd not educated them in such obscure and unnecessary (according to Sirius's mother) charms.

"Making any progress with the you-know-what?" James said quietly.

Sirius raised his eyebrows as he turned back from watching the last few Ravenclaw girls trickle out onto the stairs. "What do you mean?" he said. "Isn't Remus in there right now asking – ?"

"No, not that you-know-what! The other one!"

"Maybe we need new code names or something. These are a bit complicated, I'd say."

James ran a hand through his hair so it stood on end erratically. "Right. Well." He huffed out a sigh impatiently. "What in blazes is taking Lupin so long?"

"Dunno," Sirius said, scuffing his shoe against the wall. "Why don't we just go to lunch? Maybe we'll catch Nick."

"Might as well."

The two of them walked off down the corridor, Sirius gesticulating animatedly as he reeled off his top ten choices for execution, chief among which were Snape, his cousin Bellatrix, and several other Slytherins, all of whom he deemed worthy of taking a 'long nap with the giant squid.' They were halfway down the stairs to the Great Hall when James finally changed the subject.

"Well, what about it?"

"What about what?"

"The project!"

"I thought you wanted me to stop working on the project."

"I did, but now we've got the thing set up for Halloween..."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's not set up. I haven't even talked to Sir Nick, and if you think I'm going to trust Peter with it..."

James grunted in apparent agreement, then said, "There he is! Nick! Hey, Nick!"

The Gryffindor House ghost, who had just come through a wall on the other side of the Entrance Hall, turned at the sound of his name, and waited as the boys dashed down the rest of the stairs.

"Well, hello, boys! Interesting classes today, I expect?"

"As always," said Sirius. "How're you these days, Sir Nick?"

Nearly-Headless Nick sighed gustily. "Ah, Mr. Black. I wish I could say that life – if you could call my existence life – never gets old, but alas..."

James screwed up his face comically. "Well... what do you think, Sirius?"

"It's certainly a possibility. I'm sure it would cheer him up immensely."

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington looked at them curiously, cocking his head until it slipped off his neck and he had to tug it back into place. "Whatever it is you're talking about, I'm sure it's interesting, but..."

"Here's the thing, Nick," Sirius said, turning from his conversation with James. "We'd like to do something for Halloween. You know, show the school a good time."

"Ah...?"

"Yes, and we'd like your help."

Sir Nick regarded them suspiciously. "What is it you'd like me to do?"

"Just a bit of a display. We were planning to charm some things to dance a folk dance of some sort – "

There was a glint in Sir Nick's eye, insofar as his smoky form could glint, as he said, "Perhaps a reel?"

Sirius threw back his head and laughed. "Sir Nick, you read my mind."


	5. Chapter 5

"Merlin, Peter, eat a little more, why don't you?"

Peter looked up from his seat at the Gryffindor table, where he was surrounded by several plates heaped with shepherds pie. "I – what? Where'd you guys go earlier?"

"Nowhere. Just stayed behind a moment."

"Wish you'd told me," Peter muttered.

"We would have, but what difference would it have made? You always get pushed out the door like a first year anyway," James said, as he reached for the tureen of food.

"Hey, I already got you some!"

"Oh, is that what this is?"

"But of course it is, James. What else could it be, when it looks so clearly like vomit?" Sirius said distastefully.

James pushed away the plate he'd taken, grimacing at it. "I know you don't like it, Sirius, but must you ruin lunch for everyone?"

"Not everyone," Sirius pointed out. "Peter's still eating."

Remus arrived then, and talk turned to a discussion of the next week's excitement.

"So Flitwick gave you the charm?"

"He did. It's not actually that much more complicated than the other version – there are just some modifications to the pronunciation of the vowels to allow for the object being a squash and for it to do a reel rather than a tap dance. Although it has quite a bit to do with the visualization of the desired result."

"How're you going to visualize a pumpkin dancing a reel?" Peter asked, momentarily diverted from his demolishing of the food.

"Honestly, Peter. It's really not that difficult."

Peter went back to his plate, muttering under his breath about hallucinogens.

"I must disagree with you on that point, Peter. If you recall, our first year Charms exam required that we cause a pineapple to tap dance. Having done so, it is not particularly hard to imagine the dancer is a pumpkin and the dance a reel."

"Sirius, speak like a normal person, would you? You're scaring the boy," James grinned.

Peter was spared from any further mortification by lunch ending, and he dashed off to Divination. James had Ancient Runes, which was on the way to Arithmancy, so he, Sirius, and Remus all walked off in that direction.

"So are we Conjuring the pumpkins or just commandeering some from the elves?"

"I know you're supposed to be brilliant, Sirius, but can you really Conjure pumpkins? And anyway, I don't think they'd take too well to the charms if they were Conjured."

"Guess we'll have to talk to the elves, then."

"I take it you two talked to Sir Nick?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"When I came downstairs he was teaching the Grey Lady how to dance a reel. I thought that was rather too much of a coincidence, so..."

Sirius grinned. "Sir Nick ought to be an honorary member of our crew. He's already more useful than Peter."

"Sirius, give it a rest," Remus said, though James snickered. "Peter can't help that he's not as talented as you are."

"Lupin, you know as well as I do that Pettigrew couldn't curse his way out of a barrel. Unless he suddenly comes out with some hidden talent, I stand by my earlier assessment."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Would I ever?"

"Yes."

Sirius frowned. "It was a rhetorical question."

"Hm."

* * *

After Arithmancy was History of Magic, which Sirius spent, quite productively, drawing obscene pictures in the margins of his parchment. He had attempted, at least for a little while, taking real notes, but soon gave up when he started to confuse Urg the Unclean with Ug the Unreliable. Next to him, James was slumped across the desk, snoring quietly, having amused himself flicking ink into Peter's hair as long as possible.

A glance at Remus's parchment, painfully obtained by sitting up and leaning around behind the desk so that its corner dug into his midriff, told Sirius that at least one person with a brain was paying attention. So, leaving off his drawings of Slughorn and the giant squid, he fished around in his book bag for The Arte of the Transformation, his most recent acquisition. It was also the one that had taken the most convincing to get – it seemed that spending one's evenings discussing ancient books with the librarian did eventually pay off, as she let almost no one into the Restricted Section without a note from a professor. It was times like those when he regretted being tarred with the prankster brush, as Madam Pince had no intention of giving him another way to cause trouble. However, she seemed to think the Animagi transformation was beyond his abilities, and said only that if he ended up with antlers it was his own fault.

But Sirius was not going to end up with antlers – not that he could tell, anyway. When he did the mind exercises that comprised the first step, everything he saw was at an angle much lower to the ground than any large antlered animal ought to be. There was also an overwhelming desire to just lie down in the grass – hopefully that didn't mean anything in particular. Fat lot of good it would be to turn into a sloth or something equally useless.

So really, he was partway there. But the author of the book seemed to think that the ability to think as an animal would naturally follow, and that's where Sirius was stuck. He simply could not figure out how to think as an animal. Did that mean abandoning words? Something entirely different? If only McGonagall would give him a hint...

"Sirius? You coming, mate?"

Apparently class was over; James and Remus were standing at the door, having dispatched an ink-flecked Peter to make sure Sirius didn't stay at the desk for the rest of the day. Annoyed at how little he had accomplished, Sirius stood up.

"Yeah. Onward to food, I suppose?"

"At long last. I thought this time would never come," James replied, hand to his brow in a mock swoon.

"Merlin, I'm sick of that bugger."

"Who, Professor Binns?" Peter asked, eager to participate in the conversation.

"No, actually. I meant James. Really Potter, all this dramatic nonsense, it simply must stop."

"Oh, Sirius, you wound me," James said dryly. "I hope they're not serving shepherds pie again, I really would like to eat something tonight."

"We could always go down to the kitchens later," Remus said, "although it's really too bad your Invisibility Cloak won't take an Engorgement Charm."

"Why don't we just go straight to the kitchens? At least that way we can get what we want first off," Peter suggested.

"Only problem with that is McGonagall will notice we're missing, and I'm fairly certain we're not supposed to know how to get into the kitchens. She'll get suspicious."

"By the way," Sirius added, "I overheard that sixth year, you know, Longbottom, saying something about tickling."

"Maybe he was talking about his girlfriend," James said.

"Anything's possible, I suppose. Hopefully that's what it was, because otherwise it's going to be all over the school in no time."

They walked in relative silence for a little while, Peter running his fingers over the paintings on the walls and causing their occupants to go running for cover.

"Did you get any further?" James said finally.

"On the big project?"

"The one that requires all those ridiculous books, yes."

"Kind of. But I'm supposed to think like an animal, or something, and I'm still not entirely sure what that entails."

"They don't tell you?"

"I'm starting to think the authors never actually became Animagi. Unfortunately, the people who are in a position to know aren't about to tell me."

"Why are you even doing this, Sirius?" Remus said. "Just because it's interesting?"

Peter's nails scratched against a canvas in the renewed silence, chipping an odd-looking blemish on the Sneakoscope in Edgar Stroulger's portrait. He backed away hurriedly as Stroulger raised his fist threateningly, turning around to face the others.

Sirius smiled, but he didn't look remotely amused.

James and Peter's eyes were darting between the other two, wondering if Sirius would answer and, if he did, what he would say.

"Don't see why you're so concerned as to why I'm doing it, Lupin. You'll benefit from it no matter what my motive, won't you?"

"Yes, but – "

"Well, I think that answers that question!" James nearly shouted. "Come on then, Lupin, old chap, let's go see if there's anything worth eating." He slung his arm over Remus's shoulders and started to drag the other boy down the hall, leaving Sirius alone with Peter.

"If you really want to know what his thought processes are, you could nick his journal," Peter said. "It'd be easy enough."

Sirius stared at the shorter boy for a moment, then said, "If I wanted to do things like that, Peter, I'd be in Slytherin. Which, if you hadn't noticed, I'm not."

With that, Sirius turned on his heel and strode off down the hall in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. If this was what his friends were going to do, he'd be better off alone, at least for now.


	6. Chapter 6

Sir Nick turned out to be a tremendous asset to their team. The next day, following double Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, which saw Remus sitting as far away from Sirius as possible within the confines of the classroom, he drifted up to them in the corridor.

"Well, boys, I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?"

Sirius and James exchanged a glance; as they did, Sirius could see Remus hovering several metres away, clearly listening.

"The bad, I suppose."

The ghost grimaced. "The Bloody Baron wants to do his act."

Sirius and James exchanged another glance, this one quizzical. "Which act is that?"

"It's a sword dance of some sort – I don't know where he came up with it, although to be fair he's had plenty of time – but the other ghosts are quite willing to do the reel. I can try to talk him out of it, but – "

"No!" Sirius yelled.

Nick stopped midway through his sentence. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, don't bother trying to change his mind. It's really too much work for you, and he might as well enjoy himself, really."

"He has a rather ghoulish sense of fun, if you ask me, but if you insist. Are we to partner with each other, then?"

"No, Lupin was planning to enchant some pumpkins to dance with you," Sirius said. "Aren't you, Remus?"

Remus started, then walked over to them. "That's right."

Nick frowned slightly. "I was hoping to partner the Grey Lady, but perhaps another time."

"Is that the good news, then?" James asked. "That the other ghosts want to participate?"

"Yes, that's it. We're all looking forward to it very much. I suppose we'll just swoop in after the feast starts?"

"If you don't mind. The pumpkins will join you there."

"Very good." Nick bowed stiffly, then glided off. Sirius turned to Remus.

"Did you want a hand with the pumpkins, mate?"

Remus opened his mouth to say something, then paused. Finally, he said, "Yeah, thanks. I'll teach you the incantation tonight, then."

* * *

Halloween dawned gloomy and gray, but the four Gryffindors were too wound up to be affected by the weather. James even managed to get through the day without once mentioning the similarity of Lily Evans's eyes to the color of the grass, although this may have had more to do with the lack of time he spent outside than anything else. Peter slopped porridge down his robes at breakfast, but no one found this particularly odd. Remus's notes might have been rather less thorough than usual, but Sirius still managed to totally discombobulate Professor McGonagall by turning his ant into an anteater midway though the hour.

By the time the feast rolled around, they were all quite nervous. They'd passed Nearly-Headless Nick in the sixth-floor corridor, and he'd gone into a deep bow, not seeming to mind that his head had slipped off yet again. The Fat Friar, though always friendly, had been gliding around with a wide grin for the entire day. Even the Grey Lady, standoffish at the best of times, had gone so far as to smile softly in their direction. Sirius hoped the Bloody Baron was participating in the reel as well as the sword dance – Nick couldn't possibly have persuaded Moaning Myrtle. Or at least he hoped not.

Once the Great Hall was full, Professor Dumbledore stood up to begin his customary address. Beaming around at all of them (Sirius couldn't help but wonder if the headmaster practiced his expressions in the mirror – after all, mirrors could give wonderful feedback; his old mirror at home had taught him how to raise one eyebrow), he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, everyone turned to the other end of the hall as the ghosts zoomed in.

Sirius and Remus had practiced the spell for hours – the house elves eventually kicked them out of the kitchens when it became evident that they weren't quite as good at ending the charm as they were at casting it. Now that it was time –

Four Jack O'Lanterns broke out of their hovering positions above the house tables and rushed to join the ghosts. Alternating with the Grey Lady, Sir Nick, the Fat Friar and, thankfully, the Bloody Baron, they proceeded to bob in place as James started the music; Sirius was rather impressed by how well they were able to keep time. As they bobbed and wove, nearly everyone in the hall began to clap along, even Professor McGonagall. Hands were slapping on tabletops, feet were stomping on the floor – there was no order at all, but Dumbledore didn't seem to mind. Snape was sour-faced, but really, was that at all out of the ordinary? Clearly he didn't appreciate a well-danced reel when he saw one.

The ghosts wove and stepped, glimmering in and out between the pumpkins. Finally the music ended (rather loudly), and the hall was filled with applause. Sir Nick stepped forward and said, "We thank you kindly for your appreciation – and to Misters Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew, we wish a very happy Halloween!"

As everyone turned to face them, Sirius jumped to his feet, bringing Remus along with him, his only thought being that he would really like to see the baron's sword dance at some point. James and Peter were standing too, beaming around at their schoolmates. Down the table, Sirius thought he saw the very slightest of grins on Evans's face, but as soon as he glimpsed it, it was gone again, replaced by a look that clearly said, "If you tell Potter I even _thought_ about smiling at your little trick, you are dead." He saluted her and bowed as the four of them took their seats again and Dumbledore finally began his speech; he could do without the mooning about that would inevitably come from his telling James. It would happen eventually, no question about it, but they had years – why hurry?

* * *

The first week of November was no less gray than the week that had preceded it. Their little display had not gone unremarked – Flitwick had congratulated them on their imaginative use of such a low level charm, and McGonagall was overheard saying that she'd not seen such a reel since she was a young girl in Scotland. Naturally she'd not meant to say that in front of any of the perpetrators, and when she turned around to see Sirius behind her she very nearly gave him detention. But then her better humour won out and she sent him on his way, saying only that perhaps they might like to let the headmaster get through his speech next time? Her assumption that there would be a next time was enough reason for Sirius to strut back to the tower, rather than walk.

James was back to staring at Evans in class – in History of Magic Sirius actually caught him drooling – and griping about the performance of Gryffindor's Quidditch team. They'd scraped a victory over Slytherin, though, and as far as Sirius was concerned that was what mattered. Remus had apparently decided that if Sirius was engaged in the other project it left less time for the empty-headed schemes he usually developed, and that was a cause he could get behind. He and Peter had started doing the legwork to map out their most frequented floors of the castle, and saw no point in distractions. Peter was slowly working out a derivative of the folding charm James had taught him, and although it was taking quite a while, the targeting mechanism did seem to be working. He managed to get it through Binns's nose one day in class – as usual, the ghost paid no attention, if he even noticed.

Sirius was again immersed in his books, although he had made no progress at all with the project. But he had high hopes, as after an episode in, yes, Transfiguration, where he turned a handful of buttons into a teetering stack of china dinner plates, Professor McGonagall had pinched her mouth together and said, "Perhaps I ought to talk to you about the transformation after all. It would be a more productive channeling of your attentions – unless you needed a full set of dinner china?" He'd been extremely attentive after that. Enough so that he was unable to prevent James from a disastrous attempt at Conjuring a flower from thin air, which resulted in a very loud explosion that left everyone reeking of smoke.

Yes, it was business as usual at Hogwarts.


End file.
